


SLASHERS!

by kezone



Category: Carrie (1976), Child's Play/Chucky (Movies), Freddy vs. Jason (2003), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Scream (Movies)
Genre: More characters to be added, basically all the slashers I can think of will be at least mentioned, i swear jason and freddy are major players in this evvveeentuuually, it's really just a sequel of freddy vs. jason taken up to 11
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:05:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kezone/pseuds/kezone
Summary: Slashers: immortal mass-murderers summoned primarily by premarital sex and underage drinkingThe Team: Slashers gone straight-ish-not-really recruited by Slasher expert/psychiatrist Dr. Sam Loomis to fucking xenocide their own species in exchange for basically nothingdon't think too hard about this





	1. Mr Sandman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info about what films from certain franchises are considered canon for this fic and spoiler warnings for this chapter are in the end notes.

The boy grabbed a handful of candy corn when his mother wasn’t looking. He placed a piece in his mouth, felt it melt on his tongue. Then, carefully hiding his conquest, he snuck off towards his room.

“What do you have there, Mikey?” His older sister stood at the foot of the stairs, crossing her arms.

“I got nothing.” He said, straight-faced.

“Bullshit! I saw you, you know, you aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.” He ignored her. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “I won’t tell mom if you give me half. Deal?”

Mikey studied her. She wasn’t lying. Judith was a terrible liar. Wordlessly, he handed over slightly less than half.

“That’s the little brother I love,” she said, ruffling his hair. He hated when she did that.

 

The bloody clown mask clung to his face, suffocating him, but he remained still. Killing his sister had been a sudden, irresistible, compulsion. He did not know why he did it.

 

The police could not cuff him—his hands were too small; they would have slipped right out.

His parents clung each other, his mother sobbing uncontrollably. He needed to kill them too. That was all Mikey thought.

 

Dr. Loomis stared at the silent boy. “Just talk to me, Michael.” The doctor leaned forwards, “You are still young, you can turn this around.”

Michael glared him down. He knew the doctor did not like him, but he did not know why. Michael knew a lot of things, reading people came as natural to him as breathing, but he rarely understood.

 

His younger sister screamed.

 

Everything erupted in fire.

 

But Michael lived.

 

He always would.

 

Michael Myers had stopped being human long ago.

-

[SLASHERS!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejnSBdd5XIo)

-

“Gentlemen, Ladies. For long we have been plagued by horrible monsters in the shape of men. These monsters— crudely named Slashers—have slaughtered hundreds of innocents. Their abilities go beyond the realm of man; this we’ve learned the hard way. Some of their names have entered the public consciousness—Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger—but many more remain hidden, carrying out their atrocities in the shadows. In truth, we had given up all hope of destroying them. That is, until today. Freddy Krueger has died.”

The room filled with exciting murmuring. The speaker, a self-proclaimed Slasher expert named Dr. Sam Loomis, waited patiently for the room to quiet before continuing.

“He’s died before, but he’s never stayed in the grave this long. Our intelligence has reported that they believe that his passing is very likely to be permanent this time. How, then, did he perish? Who was it that put down this monster for good?”

Dr. Loomis smiled menacingly.

“It was none other than Jason Voorhees, another legendary Slasher.” He paused, “What does this tell us? How can we use this information to put down others of their kind? It’s simple. If a Slasher is what it takes to kill a Slasher, then all we need to do is make it happen again.”

One man sitting near the front of the conference room asked, “But how? Keeping a Slasher in captivity for any length of time is nearly as difficult as killing one, and how else would we make them kill each other?”

“Easy. First off, what is a Slasher?” Dr. Loomis tapped his forehead, “They are humans who became corrupted by an intense murderous desire. These murderous desires of theirs tend to lead to specific… ‘goals’ for their killings, and they are obsessed with reaching these goals, at any cost. These can vary from ‘killing everyone they encounter on a specific holiday’ to ‘getting as high a body count as possible’ to ‘killing everyone remotely responsible for their sister’s death’. The correlation between these types of goals and being a Slasher is still unknown, but most research suggests it is a very real link. However, some Slashers are exceptions to this rule. These Slashers have either fulfilled their goals, or have so vague goals that they are not bound by obsession. These Slashers are, on some level, reasonable, though they remain mass-murdering monsters.”

 The man who had asked the question frowned, “Are you suggesting that we recruit these… retired… Slashers to deal with their more active counterparts?”

Dr. Sam Loomis clapped, once. “Exactly.”

With a click he turned on a projector, that lit the white wall beside him.

“We can give them a variety of offers, either promise them immunity, or say we’ll help them fulfill their ‘goals’. Of course, we don’t need to stick to whatever deal we make. In fact, it's very likely that whatever Slashers we send out will die trying to accomplish this task. I understand the dangers, but nothing else has worked so far. This might be our only hope of finally putting an end to these reprehensible mass murderers. If you are willing, I already have my eye on some Slashers for the job.”

He clicked to the first slide.

-

Carrie White held Beef Instant Noodles in one hand, Chicken Instant Noodles in the other. She looked back and forth, then glanced at the other options stacked up in the shelf, brow furled in concentration.

She only had enough money to buy about five packs, before she’d be back to walking the streets, telepathically calling dropped change to her pocket.

At least, with her powers, she never had to worry about being mugged when she slept under bridges.

Really, she had it much better then she deserved. Someone like her…

Even though she had cleaned herself a million times, she still felt the pig’s blood coating her blonde hair, weighing down the prom dress she had spent days and days carefully designing.

Ten years had passed, but Carrie had never truly left that night.

Sirens sounded. The gas station was lit with blue and red lights from the windows.

A unit of heavily armored officers burst through the door, guns at the ready.

Carrie dropped her Instant Noodles.

“Wait, we don’t want to fight you.” Dr. Loomis said, safely behind the line of officers. “We want to recruit you for a special mission. A way for you to… repent,” He weighed the word, “for past actions.”

She cautiously listened to his proposal.

-

Michael Myers did not shift in his restraints. His mask was off for once, revealing his handsome, if bedraggled, face. His dark hair was shaggy and uncut, falling over his dead-tired eyes. Scars peaked out from under his straightjacket, a hint of his violent life.

“Michael.” Dr. Loomis greeted his old patient coldly.

The Shape remained mute as ever.

“You have no family left to kill.”

Michael did not visibly respond to his words.

“As a Slasher, you’ve lost all purpose.”

His eyes were like an abyss. Dr. Loomis could never bare to meet them.

“I can give you a new one.”

Slowly, Michael raised his head.

-

“Whaddaya mean, uncle? You need my help?” Billy grinned lazily through the bullet-proof glass of his cell. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” Dr. Sam Loomis said curtly.

“Hahahaaa…” He dragged on his laugh dryly. His eyes gleaned manically. “This is more like a superhero movie then a slasher film, uncle. Not sure I approve.”

The doctor stepped towards his wayward nephew threateningly, “This is a once in a lifetime deal, Billy, you’d be a fool not to take it.”

“Really, your concern brings tears to my eyes.” Billy’s grin snapped into a glare, “but I’m not gonna start decaying my motive in my second movie. Even Freddy took nearly four to start becoming a joke, I’d be damned if I took less than that!”

Dr. Loomis looked helplessly on his brother’s son. He was insane.

“Now, if the plot is that you have no fucking clue what you’re dealing with, and I end up killing all of you, then we might have somethun’ to work with.” Billy stroked his chin as if he was deep in thought. “Hm, that could work. Like in the first Hellraiser, when the Cenobites go back on their deal and— you’ve seen that one, haven’t you, uncle? It’s alright, sorta on the borderline of Slasher films, lotsa blood and guts. You like that, right?”

Dr. Loomis sighed. No such movie existed.

This was because, quite simply, his nephew was an insane bloodthirsty Slasher, who thought reality was a bad gore flick, and acted accordingly.

“Yeah,” Billy said, studying Dr. Loomis, “I’d bet you do.”

He did not have time in indulge his nephew’s… eccentricities. “Billy, about the deal—“

“The name’s Ghostface.” Billy growled. “Little Billy Loomis is no more.” He made a ‘poof’ gesture with his hand.

“You won’t get an opportunity like this again.”

“I’m not joining the goddamn Slasher Squad, and nothing you say’ll make me change my mind.”

“Michael Myers will be on the team.”

-

“So where’re the rest of the Slashers?” Billy asked eagerly.

Billy had come quite willingly; they had barely had to restrain him at all. The young Slasher’s anger was completely gone, in fact, Dr. Loomis thought with a shiver, he looked practically giddy.

“Oh, uncle, what should I say to him?” Billy giggled nervously, “It would be weird if I asked for his autograph, wouldn’t it? Stu would be so jealous!” He paused, “Do you think he’ll… like me? I mean, his resume as a Slasher is so impressive, he basically invented the genre. My movie wouldn’t have been made if it wasn’t for him. There were other early classics, but Halloween is what really led the craze.” Billy admitted bashfully, “I wanted to be as great a horror villain as him someday. But then they went and cast other people as Ghostface in all of my sequels! What were they thinking? To really draw in the crowds, you’ve gotta have a strong, consistent Slasher. I coulda been that Slasher, but they just had fake after fake. There’s a reason the fifth Friday the 13th failed, don’t you think so, uncle?”

“Sorry, Billy, were you saying something?” Dr. Loomis barely glanced up from his phone.

“Ghostface, not Billy.” He said sulkily, but his curiosity couldn’t be quenched, “What are you reading that's so exciting?”

Dr. Loomis responded, mostly to himself, “I think I’ve found our final member of the Team.”

Billy leaned forwards excitedly, “Who? Anyone I’d know?”

Dr. Loomis, sick of dealing with Billy’s pestering, held out the phone so the young Slasher could read the email.

Billy’s face lit up as he read it, “That’s awesome, uncle! I love you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler-Central:  
> The level of spoilers goes: No Spoilers (no effect on viewing of movie), Mild Spoilers (may negatively effect enjoyment of movie), General Spoilers (no huge twists are really ruined, but if you're ever planning on watching it...), Major Spoilers (big and explicit endgame spoilers). If I include a higher category, then I dunno what to say, don't blame me for ruining the movie.
> 
> Major Spoilers: for the first two Halloween films, Carrie 1976, Freddy vs. Jason  
> MAJOR SPOILERS GO SEE IT FIRST: for the first Scream movie
> 
> Canon-o-meter:  
> Halloween: The franchise itself is a bit iffy on what's canon, so we're taking a bit of a mix-and-match approach. The first two films are 1000% canon. Some elements from 3-6 are included, but they went down differently. H20 hasn't happened yet, so it can't be canon. Rob Zombie movies aren't canon.  
> Carrie: Mostly based on the 1976 movie, with some cherry-picked elements from the short story and other adaptions included  
> Scream: They're all canon, but this Ghostface is one of the first film's. He seemed to be the one who created the Ghostface persona itself, so after a lot of thought, we're going OG. The others may still be out there though.  
> Freddy vs. Jason: Canon. For the record:  
> Nightmare on Elm Street & Friday the 13th: All canon, except for Jason X and Wes Craven's New Nightmare, for what should be obvious reasons, and the reboots.  
> Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash: Not canon. But Ash exists in this universe and should show up at some point.


	2. Whisper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Central and the Canon-O-Meter are in the end notes.

“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream,” Billy crooned, “Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen.”

Dr. Loomis had left him in a new cell, one in the basement of the Slasher Crisis Center.

“Sandman, I’m so alone. Don’t have nobody to call my own.”

Nothing about Billy looked particularly threatening. He was a slim pretty-boy, old enough to vote but not to drink. Even his madness, in a vacuum, seemed that of an enthusiastic fan, not a killer.

How much of Billy’s Ghostface persona was real and how much was a show put on to unnerve his enemies? Dr. Loomis had spent much of the past few years trying to answer that question, but making any real progress with Billy was impossible. When the subject got too serious, he would start rambling endlessly about scary movies, when the subject was light, his mockery turned viciously cruel.

He would proclaim his adoration for Dr. Loomis one minute, go on a mad rant of all the ways he’d planned to kill him the next.

Dealing with Billy was hard for Dr. Loomis. Michael, he saw only as an ‘it’, a murder machine in the shape of a man, but Dr. Loomis had once taken five-year-old Billy to the aquarium and watched with amusement as his nephew’s eyes lit up in childish wonder. Much as he thought that the Billy he had known was dead, replaced by a thing that didn’t hold an ounce of humanity within it, sometimes the echoes of his nephew hiding within the Slasher became too hard to ignore.

“Please turn on your magic beam, Ohhh, Mr. Sandman bring me a dream.” Billy sang the normally upbeat song melancholically, his low voice barely above a whisper. Wherever he touched the song, it changed to become one of tragedy, not romance.

Was Billy Loomis a tragic figure himself, or one who brought tragedy to all around him like a plague?

-

[SLASHERS!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TsI3AH34X8o&index=27)

-

“You can’t bring any weapons into the facility,” the Slasher Crisis Center guard told their visitor, sounding bored. “Please disarm before proceeding.”

The man started to argue immediately, “You don’t understand. He might-“

“We’re well equipped to defend against Slashers here. It’s the reason we exist.” The guard said, casting a disapproving eye over the man, unsaid insults heavy in his gaze. “And you must pass through the metal detector to enter this building.”

The two glared stormily at each other, the offending airport-style metal detector standing innocently between them.

Finally, the man sighed. He unstrapped the holster from his belt and reached into his jacket and pulled out a concealed shotgun.

The guard couldn’t help smirking. “That’s bett-“

He emptied his inner pockets, threw a glock and two revolvers onto the table. He dug another out of his pants, and a second pistol from his right boot.

The guard’s face paled as the pile of confiscated guns grew.

“Wait a minute,” The man took off his large jacket, and unzipped the back, revealing a secret pocket, from which he drew out an assault rifle.

The guard took a step back, “the fuck.”

“Normally I leave this one home,” the man explained calmly, “but with his reappearance I thought better safe than sorry.”

The guard stared dumbstruck as the man went to removing the various knives he had stashed across his person. “Who are you?”

The man glanced up from his struggle of prying what looked suspiciously like a scalpel from the sole of his boot. “Andy Barclay.” He gestured at the pile of weapons on the table, “Is this enough? If I get all of them, my clothes’ll be ruined. I’m having lunch with my mom in a few hours and I’d rather not show up in an actual birthday suit.”

The guard hesitated, before sighing and turning off the metal detector. “You’d better have something good for all this trouble.”

Andy gestured towards the large box he’d brought with him, “Do I ever.”

The box shook slightly.

Maybe, only a trick of the light.  Maybe not.

-

There were two guards, standing on either side of her. Both their faces were like stone, but Carrie knew them.

Knew that the one on her right was named Benjamin Dent. That he was married, with three kids; Sarah, Mary, and David. Classic Biblical names. He had been very devout when he was younger, but this job had shaken him. He was working with his pastor to redefine and find his faith in the eye of such evil.

Carrie understood him, very much.

A very small part of her wanted to reach out to him, but the rest of her screamed how terrible an idea that was.

For she had read his mind, and learned his darkest secrets, like the devil would’ve.

It hadn’t been on purpose, Carrie was on many levels terrified of her awesome powers, and bottled them in whenever she could. While she had taught herself small-scale telekinesis and how to identify people’s presences by their thought-waves, she shied away from the more extreme aspects of her abilities. However, as much as she tried to suppress them, sometimes a stranger’s deepest thoughts bled through, leaving Carrie digesting them awkwardly.

Not wanting to risk more of Benjamin Dent’s secrets, she cast her mental net wider.

On the floor below her, a group of… scientists? Discussed the blood samples they’d taken from her and other Slashers.

There were a few people walking through the corridors. By their pace, Carrie guessed most of them were more guards. People specifically trained to deal with Slashers. The idea scared her somewhat, even as she knew she probably deserved anything that they’d do to her, even as she knew her own great power.

Three rooms to her left, she sensed… another… presence……

“AHHHHHH!” Carrie screamed. Everything in her room slammed violently against the walls, then slid to the ground in a sick thud.

She leaned forwards in her restraints, panting.

Benjamin ran to her side, held her shoulders roughly like that was enough to contain her. The other guard, Dan, was talking quickly into a walkie-talkie.

“Code Orange, repeat, Code Orange.”

Carrie had difficulty breathing.

That mind… was that a Slasher? Carrie was unable to sense her own mind, and she had never met another Slasher. Was that incredible darkness what Carrie herself brought into the world?

Unable to turn her attention away, possessed with an indescribable curiosity, she reached out again, more cautiously this time.

 His presence filled her mind, like she was sinking into a deep pool, sinking deeper and deeper until all natural light faded and only murky cold darkness remained. She imagined a rope, a solid lifeline connecting her ankle to the surface, and trusting its strength, she turned from the light, and gazed into the abyss.

 That’s where she met him.

In that pool of liquid despair, where sunlight never reached.

She whispered the name she heard, mentally.

“Michael? Can ya hear me?”

A deep pain pierced her body.

She tried to retreat into her own mind, but his mental waves were too great and she was held in place. 

But this was Carrie’s arena. She manipulated the waters, to bring her further down, towards Michael’s mind. All of his defenses were natural—he did not have the gift. Yet his mental barriers were among the strongest she’d encountered.

Finally, she reached the bottom of the pool. Slowly, the water changed into air. When her feet brushed the floor, new scenery faded into focus.

Carrie was standing on a street in an average, middle class, American, neighborhood. Pumpkins sat on doorsteps, and kids ran around, dressed in colorful costumes. Halloween night.

“Michael?” She called, as she walked the crowded sidewalks, children parting before her. “I don’t wanta hurt ya… I jus’ wanna talk.” Her voice was soft.

A group of children dressed as pirates, princesses, and ghosts walked past her. The last of the kids was dressed as a hockey-goalie, the large mask barely holding to the child’s face. Overhead, the streetlights flickered.

“I know yur a Slasher. I’m too. I dunno what you’ve dun, and ya dunno me. Bu’ you and me, we’re gonna be in this together, I think. Not just agains’ the other Slashers, but agains’ this whole setup.”

Someone tugged on her dress. Carrie spun around, to see a small boy in a clown mask looking up at her.

She crouched down, eye to eye with the boy. “Michael? That you?” She said kindly, like he was the boy he appeared to be.

He nodded once.  

Even after finding him in his mind, Carrie couldn’t easily read his thoughts. This, she liked.

She held out her hand, “Allies?”

Michael stared at her outstretched hand, or at least he seemed to. His mask made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.  

Carrie smiled gently, “Well, ya don’t need’ta right now.”

The clown lifted his head to meet Carrie’s eyes. She didn’t flinch when she saw they held that pool within them. She had expected as much.

Slowly, the street washed away, and it was just the two of them standing in darkness.

Micheal remained silent, so Carrie spoke again, trying to sound as unthreatening as humanly possible, “Did they promise ya anythin’ ta make ya go along with all this?”

Slowly, Michael shook his head. It was unclear, under his mask, how much attention he was paying to her words or how they affected him, if at all.

“Then didya volunteer?”

No again.

Figuring he was not about to start talking himself, Carrie continued on, “Whatever it is, do ya trust that psychologist?”

Michael breathed out quickly, in what could be taken as amusement.

Carrie smiled, hiding her nervousness. “Take that as a ‘no’?”

He did not respond at all, but somehow she got the sense he was agreeing with her.

“Hey, I know a bit of sign language, if that’d be betta.”  

Michael did not bother answering. Perhaps he did not know sign language, perhaps he was voluntarily mute, perhaps any number of things.

“Guess not? Well,” Carrie said awkwardly. “I’ll still be ‘round, so just call out mentally if they’re attacking or anythin’… But they’re probably panicking ‘bout me collapsing and all.” And throwing things telekinetically across the room, but Michael really didn’t need to know all of her powers just now.  

He nodded, so small she barely noticed it.

Michael turned, and walked away, his small body disappearing into nothing. Carrie watched him leave without a word.

The air turned back to water, and Carrie was again floating in the deep pool. She turned to face the surface, guided up by the rope she’d attached to her ankle.

She’d survived her first encounter with the devil. But—that was not what she had seen when she looked at him. Not exactly.

-

The SCC Headquarters looked like something out of a movie, Andy thought wryly.

A large screen, currently showing a map of North America covered in red dots that seemed to represent the locations of Slashers, covered the front of the room. In the center of the room there were rows of computers, where SCC agents were deeply engaged in research. Several guards stood at the entrance of the room, enough to cast an uneasy presence across it. At the front of the room, underneath the screen, was a desk covered in papers, that seemed to be command central.

That’s where the guard led Andy. “Hey,” Andy whispered to the guard, “… um, Manfred.” He read the guard’s nametag, “This setup seems a bit off.”

Manfred shrugged, “not my business.”

It was the first time Andy had been taken this far into the SCC, and the unease that always rested under his skin started to grow. They had taken that box from him earlier, saying they had a secure place to keep it, but every moment it was out of his sight his paranoia multiplied.

When they reached the front of the room, everything froze.

All around the room as if a silent alarm had gone off, guards suddenly swung to attention, weapons aimed directly at Andy.

Dr. Loomis emerged from the shadows of the room, well out of the way of any potential violence.

Andy swung around to face the good doctor. “You. This was a trap. Why?” His voice was caught awkwardly between confusion and anger, leaving him stuttering.

“You are his focus. If we have you, then we can control Chucky.”

“And then you can, what, use him as a weapon?” Who would have known Andy’s face was capable of such disgust.

“That’s not our intent,” Loomis’s words would have sounded unconvincing to any ears. “Not exactly.”

“He cannot be controlled. Not for long. He will break free, and you will all die.” It was not a threat; it was a fact. Beside Andy, Manfred let out a low chuckle. Andy ignored him, eyes not leaving Loomis for a second.

“Not if we have the proper leverage,” Dr. Loomis said.

Andy growled, “I’m nobody’s leverage.”

Dr. Loomis smirked, knowing he’d hit a nerve. “I understand that you’ve experienced a great deal of trauma in your past. Think of this as a way of overcoming it, once and for all. The monster that’s haunted you since childhood can finally be used for good.”

If he was a decade younger, Andy would have rolled his eyes at the doctor’s assertions. As a responsible adult, he subtly reached into his sleeve to feel the switchblade sewn into the inside of his sweatshirt.

“However, for your own safety, while we are completing this mission, you will stay in a secure location, safe from Chucky should he come looking for you.”

“Uh huh.”

Surveying the room, Andy decided that his knife wouldn’t be enough in the ensuing gunfight if he tried to escape immediately.

-

Andy beheld his cell.

“This is it,” Manfred licked his lips, “They won’t ever let you leave here alive. You understand that, right?” Not once had his gaze drifted from Andy’s face, and the guard couldn’t quite manage to hide the sadism in his eyes.

“They have no other option.” Andy said. “I know.” He leaned against the wall of his cell, settling down with a small groan. “I could destroy everything they’ve built up if I bring the right kind of attention to this.”

Manfred crouched down to keep eye-level with him. Andy noticed that the movement was not quite natural. “I just hope I’ll be able to end you myself,” Manfred paused, “You really humiliated me back there.”

“At least you’re honest. Better than some I’ve met.”

Manfred frowned, “You’re thinking too much.”

“Maybe,” Andy rested. “Hey, do you have a lighter?”

“Did your mother never teach you to treat your body like a temple?”

“My mom spent my childhood in an insane asylum.”

“Like mother, like son. But either way, I know better than to get that close to you. Who knows what else you’ve got stashed away.”

Andy smiled good-naturedly, “So what brings a guy like you to work at the SCC? Not a job I can understand you seeking out.”

“Hmm…” He hummed in thought, “It’s a bit funny, you see. All this… Scrambling around.”

Andy said, “You know, I’m not the only one this will end badly for.”

Manfred only laughed.

“Does Loomis know you are a Slasher?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Central:
> 
> Major Spoilers: the Child's Play ('those Chucky movies') franchise
> 
> Canon-o-Meter:
> 
> Child's Play ('those Chucky movies'): All of them are more or less canon. You... don't actually need to watch all of them though. Because that's a lot of movies.  
> Unidentified Film I'm Not Naming For A While: All of it. Spoilered spoilered spoilered. just kidding. The movie is called Hush (2016), but that doesn't really matter. Nice movie, not really a Slasher movie itself, but the killer himself is a (failure of) one. complete with kill count and stupid mask. I know, sorta obscure, but that's part of the fun. and I'm kinda saving the bigger guys for Stuff. If you have any favorites among the more obscure slashers, feel free to rec them.


End file.
